Wheels Of Engagement
by Jane McCartney
Summary: The Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down. Friendship issues, a little bit of romance and Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer. X/Anya, W/?, D/Other, some bonding and hints of B/S.
1. Merry Christmas

Title: Wheels Of Engagement  
  
Author: Jane McCartney  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!  
  
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.  
  
E-mail: titania-dora@bol.com.br  
  
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.  
  
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down.  
  
***  
  
"You're enjoying this far too much, aren't you?"  
  
Buffy Summers looked at her friend and tried to suppress a smirk, shaking her head vehemently. "Nuh-uh, nope, no way," the blonde girl stated firmly, forcing a serious look onto her face and shaking her head the entire time.  
  
For some odd reason, Xander Harris just didn't seem to buy it and glanced at her, looking surprisingly menacing all of a sudden.  
  
"Maybe just a little?" the Slayer frowned tentatively, feeling the pressure of her friend's rather unamused expression.  
  
"Oh, come on! I mean I'm Rudolph here, Buffy!" Xander cried out in an undignified way, his Halloween costume - the last in the shop, and gotten by the man at the very final possible minute - making his snappy behavior somehow hard to take seriously.  
  
The former Zeppo started to pace back and forth, with nervous and hurried steps. "Do you even realize what this implies? I'm destined to be some freaking reindeer of Santa's!"  
  
"It's not so bad," the petite girl risked saying, crossing her arms above her chest with a suppressed urge to crack up in laughter.  
  
"My nose is red, Buff," Xander said, exasperated, a hint of despair in his voice. "And it glows in the dark!"  
  
Buffy tried to repress another laugh with her fist, but failed miserably this time.  
  
The man standing by her side just eyed her, not seeming to share her joy at the moment at all. "How nice to know you find my suffering amusing," Xander snorted grumpily.  
  
But once again, the gigantic and monstrous trappings of a reindeer - with Xander's uncovered head present, as that part of the costume was on the table with its pointy antlers - just couldn't make his mad face as threatening as he'd intended.  
  
The doorbell chose to ring at that moment, and then a desperate sequence of heavy knocks on the door followed almost instantly. Xander grunted. He knew whose trademark that kind of knock was and, quite honestly, he just wasn't feeling in the mood to deal right now.  
  
Buffy opened the door and a thick sandy-colored blanket burst in quickly, swearing so many British curses the two friends couldn't even begin to try and decipher at least half of them.  
  
"Bloody hell," Spike finally shoved away his protection against the weakening sunlight of late afternoon, adjusting his outfit with quick sweeps of his hand to take some of the dust off his clothes.  
  
The British undead raised an eyebrow at the brunette reindeer. "Lovely costume, you wanker."  
  
Any other time Xander would have certainly bitched back at him, but his and Buffy's mouths had just dropped directly to the floor the moment Spike had taken off the blanket, the both of them unable to speak at all.  
  
"You look... different," Buffy quailed after some time, finding it hard to use words.  
  
"What? Charlie Chaplin was an alright bloke, ya know," Spike replied, in a defensive mood, as he looked at his duds.  
  
Xander was still frowning, eyeing the blonde's costume with an awkward glance. "I dunno... from this angle that moustache kinda makes you look like Hitler, Spike..." the glorified bricklayer shrugged.  
  
"Bloody Americans," the vampire sighed, "Can't appreciate a li'l bit o' culture..."  
  
"And please, remind me why he's here again?" Xander snorted to Buffy. But his glance, one none-too-amicable, was maintained on the other male in the room instead.  
  
The thing was, even though the attempted rape thing was long since in the past, the son of Anthony Harris knew he could never again trust Spike to be left alone with his girls - ever.  
  
The blond-haired vampire echoed his unfriendly stare. "Look, whelp, me night's plans certainly don't include you, but I made a promise to the Nibblet I'd come 'ere - and I'm going to stick to it!"  
  
And with a smirk of sarcasm, knowing he'd hit a weak spot there, Spike then added, "And maybe I just 'appen to find it bloody amusing seein' your idiot face gettin' all broody, over seein' that former pet o' yours and her new beau hanging 'round all lovebird-like..."  
  
"Hey!" the young man replied grimly, poking his costume's claws against Spike's black suit in a threatening way. "You stay away from that topic, ya hear me Soul Boy?"  
  
"So, you think they've shagged already?" the vampire asked Buffy, with a nod of his head and a raised eyebrow, obviously just to piss Xander off.  
  
"OK, that's it - I do not have to take this crap! Not from the Buffy- whipped Captain Peroxide here..." the young man grunted and moved threateningly, ready to throw the first punch.  
  
The blonde Slayer sighed. Never in a million years, would she have thought she'd have to prevent a fight between Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer, and Charlie Chaplin.  
  
"Guys, please," the girl interjected, putting a hand on both of their chests and pushing them away from each other.  
  
And when the hostile ambience didn't seem to dissipate, with the hostile gazes still exchanged in this idiotic pissing contest, Buffy became exasperated and decided to give her previously girly pushing-away thing a little more Slayer strength.  
  
Enough to have, at the next moment, landed Spike on the floor and Xander on the couch.  
  
"Ouch!" the dark-haired young man got up with a yelp, still a little hazy though. He joked, "Huh - of all the fantasies I've ever had with either Buffy, Marilyn Monroe and spanking... believe me when I say being dressed up in a reindeer costume, so definitely wasn't included in any of them."  
  
Buffy blushed, and then suddenly felt the need to send an explanatory 'it- was-so-a-Willow-idea' look to a grinning Xander, who'd noticed her embarrassment with her costume.  
  
And indeed the blonde girl looked remarkably spectacular, all dressed up in a faithful copy of Marilyn's famous white dress, her hair done up in a similar way to the movie star; Buffy even had the cute dark freckle, painted on with a make-up pencil by Willow earlier.  
  
In the meanwhile, Spike had jumped up from the floor and took some seconds to recompose his equilibrium. And then, he really noticed Buffy for the first time that night.  
  
At least, now that she wasn't majorly behind Xander's enormous costume anymore...  
  
"You look all nice, luv," Spike said with a small smile, his eyes showing more amazement than lust and seemingly fixated on the pretty blonde in the center of the living room.  
  
"Y'know, personally I'd hafta go for Rita Hayworth as my favorite back then, and I always had a thing for Gilda too, but Kennedy's bint was definitely not too bad either," the vampire then added in explanation.  
  
At the same time trying to put on a disinterested face, after his unpremeditated display of practically melting in wonder for a couple of seconds.  
  
"What he's tryin' to say is you look really beautiful, Buff," Xander amended, saving his enemy from a few moments earlier from complete humiliation, at the obvious failure of what presumably was his plan to show disinterest and retain some male pride.  
  
"Thanks guys," Buffy smiled sheepishly, seemingly getting more comfortable with her costume as the minutes passed by. "You also look very..."  
  
The Slayer gave it a second of thought, before looking respectively at Xander and then at Spike. She then said frowning, "Hairy. And... Nazi."  
  
"Bollocks," Spike cursed under his breath, at the duo's agreement to characterize his Chaplin hommage as a remembrance of Adolf Hitler. "Well, I guess I did eat an awful lot o' those bloody Aryans over in France at the time..."  
  
***  
  
Some time and three cans of beer later, the living room's light went off, as well as the kitchen's and hall's, and the threesome stopped their bickering at the sudden disturbance.  
  
Buffy and Spike wondered silently about the unexpected happening, and Xander whispered, "What the hell..."  
  
Before he could end the sentence, Willow Rosenberg's voice yelled from upstairs, "Buffy, I think the power's out!"  
  
"Ya think?" the Slayer muttered sarcastically, at her red-haired friend's statement of the obvious.  
  
Willow descended down the stairs in some hurry, her hair half-curly and half-straight with a hairdryer in one hand. The redhead stopped when she was in front of the girl with the Monroe costume, "Please tell me you remembered to pay the electricity bill?"  
  
"I swear to you, it was the first thing on my mind before I started reading this month's Cosmo," the Slayer winced after some time, sending an apologetic look at her friend.  
  
"Buffy! How am I supposed to get my hair done now?" Willow wailed with a whiny voice. "I, I can't just appear in the Bronze like, la, la, la, a girl who didn't pay her power bill and has freak hair," she concluded with some hint of despair.  
  
The hacker had come a long way, since Tara had died and she'd tried to destroy the world out of grief and pain. Giles had helped her in England, and even though she wasn't completely herself again... she wasn't a genocidal lunatic anymore, either.  
  
"We, we'll think of something," Buffy risked saying, and the redhead sent her a small look of hope.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure we will," the Slayer sighed, ordering her mind to think up at least 23 backup plans for an actual good idea - and minimize the damage her Cosmo saga had caused, during the time she was supposed to have been at the bank.  
  
***  
  
TBC. Review me... It's taking only a sec from ya, but I'll be super happy girl for ages afterwards! 


	2. Morphine And Chocolate

Title: Wheels Of Engagement  
  
Author: Jane McCartney  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!  
  
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.  
  
E-mail: janemccartney@bol.com.br  
  
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.  
  
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down.  
  
***  
  
Several lit candles arranged in the living room later, a guilty Marilyn and a gloomy Willow sat on the couch.  
  
One of them with untouched hair, that was still only half-curly.  
  
Then the doorbell rang, and a visitor arrived. Xander, who was grinning at something Buffy had said about having nightmares in which she was spanking a real Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer while singing Happy Birthday to Germany's Führer, stopped dead in his tracks as his smile abruptly faded and a loud grunt came out of his lips.  
  
Buffy was the one to get the door, and also the first one to see Anya's face popping in with a wide smile on her face.  
  
"Trick or treat!" the blonde demoness exclaimed joyously, a basket hungry for candies jerking wildly about an inch away from Buffy's face.  
  
The Slayer recoiled instinctively at this, and then shot an awkward glance at Anyanka. "I, uh, I don't know if Willow remembered to buy any candy..." the girl replied, trying to recall if going for chocolate had actually been on hers or the redhead's 'to do' list this morning.  
  
Anyanka's expression became one of deep disappointment. "John, give me the eggs," the blonde vengeance demon said seriously, as her new boyfriend quickly ran and brought over one bag full of the requested eggs.  
  
"Wh-what are you going to do with those?" Buffy cringed suspiciously, determination and sudden fear present in her voice.  
  
At Anya's lack of response and scheming of a plan to play a messy trick on the house of the anti-capitalist blonde who hadn't collaborated with the true spirit of togetherness of such an All-American holiday like Halloween, Buffy gulped.  
  
"I think Dawn has some chocolate bars in the kitchen... why don't you come in and have a seat, while I go and get some for you?" Buffy offered with an awkward smile, and the demoness' face broke into a wide grin again.  
  
"OK!" a satisfied Anya accepted the proposition, entering the Summers' house.  
  
Her boyfriend, the illustrious John Benton, son of the owner of the biggest of the whole two banks in small Sunnydale, followed the demoness in. He waved cheerfully to the two men sitting casually on the couch, a beer in their hands.  
  
John was a tall, and most would say handsome man, with brunette locks of slightly curly hair and a pair of green eyes. And also, the biggest chin Xander and Spike had ever seen in their entire lives.  
  
To Xander's delight, as the dark-haired youth had so few pleasures in his life nowadays, it had recently become a talking point amongst the gang. And he had spent no little time on discovering how many jokes, in bad taste or not, he could come up with regarding this facial feature.  
  
Spike and Xander barely bothered to send a brief smile to poor old John, and then in unison took one more gulp of their beers.  
  
***  
  
"Hey Anya," Dawn Summers cheered, coming down the stairs. "What's up with your costume?" the teen then asked with a frown, noticing the recently arrived demoness.  
  
And then, spotting Spike and Xander on the couch, she added awkwardly, "And why are you two dressed as Hitler, and some big ugly hairy... thing?"  
  
Incredible but true, the male bonding thing almost occurred as Spike and Xander briefly stared at each other; and before the teen could notice the dirty look sent by both men, Anya stated pointedly, "I'm a clown."  
  
"Uh-huh. I guess I shoulda known," Dawn said with an odd nod, eyeing the blonde woman's colorful costume, though her confused glance hadn't changed.  
  
The former Key could have sworn the demoness had shown to her another costume she'd chosen when they'd gone to the store together, which wasn't a clown one.  
  
"Clowns are fun," the blonde demoness replied affirmatively, but something in her voice sounded forced.  
  
Anya turned to her Navy-costumed boyfriend, with an eager look on her features. "Don't you wish that we could all go to a circus full of them, right now? And spend the whole night there, stuck with the clowns?"  
  
John frowned a little at the oddness of the question, "I, uh, if that'd make you happy sweetie... I mean, I guess I could wish that-"  
  
Willow cut him off with a grin, "You know, it's funny that you should mention that, because Xander is actually terrified of clowns and that'd probably be like Hell to him and..."  
  
"Oh," the redhead interrupted herself with a wince, at the realization. "I don't think it's such a good wish to make then," she said to John, with a nervous, exaggerated laugh.  
  
Dawn winced too, sending a helpless but at the same time thankful look at the former witch.  
  
John frowned in confusion. Spike smirked, amused. Xander felt the sudden need to gasp for air.  
  
And Anya, still stabbing Willow with a furious glance, just cursed with a whisper, "So close..."  
  
***  
  
Please, review! 


	3. Pleasantly Blue

Title: Wheels Of Engagement  
  
Author: Jane McCartney  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!  
  
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.  
  
E-mail: janemccartney@bol.com.br  
  
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.  
  
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down. Multi-character fic. Friendship issues and a little bit of romance.  
  
***  
  
Buffy came back a couple of minutes later from the kitchen, the odd ambience reasonably dissipated as Dawn spun around gracefully in her Olivia Newton-John style skirt, her chosen costume from the movie 'Grease'.  
  
"Aw, you look wonderful Dawnie," Willow said with a sheepish smile.  
  
"You really do," Anya agreed with an equally heartfelt nod. "Hey, you could charge your boyfriend for taking you out tonight!" she snapped up at the sudden thought.  
  
"Uh, Dan's not my boyfriend," Dawn remarked nervously, with a fake laugh.  
  
The demoness ignored the brunette and followed up on her idea, "Then he'll go to school tomorrow and all his friends will congratulate him for the beautiful date he had the previous night, and he'll be happy. Plus you'll be happy. It's the capitalism-effective service system," she finished with a satisfied grin.  
  
"Or maybe," Xander pondered, "you could do something else that wouldn't classify Buffy as a potential pimp, to Social Services."  
  
"Thank you, Xander," Buffy chose this moment to walk in with the promised chocolate bars, sending her friend a grateful grin.  
  
"Communists," Anya muttered and crossed her arms like a belligerent kid, sinking her body slightly further onto the couch.  
  
***  
  
The sun had finally set, and the Bronze's Halloween party was due to start in less than an hour.  
  
After Buffy had handed Anya the candy and a few extra chocolate drops, Spike had excused himself and gone out for a few minutes. Motivations still unexplained.  
  
The Slayer was giving a long, incredibly detailed lecture to her little sister regarding the big date with Dan, a brunette sophomore student who shared a math class with Dawn.  
  
Buffy yammered on about the latest time to be back home, checking her date's pulse to make sure he actually had one, tips on how to hide the mandatory stake under her clothes - just your good old Hellmouth-y big sister sort of speech.  
  
Meanwhile Anyanka and John were leaning scandalously against a wall, making out - and the fact that the blonde demoness had chosen their position to be situated right in front of Xander's seat on the couch was, of course, a complete coincidence.  
  
Sure, and pigs really can fly, and the Hellmouth is every real estate agent's favorite spot in the entire United States, the young man who had saved the world three times thought morosely.  
  
Willow and Xander were in fact sitting on the couch, and talking. "It's... outrageous. Shocking. Don't ya think?" the brunette guy said in a revolted tone.  
  
"It is," Willow could only nod, as her oldest friend continued to babble about the public show of affection in front of them.  
  
"Come on!" the young man snapped, making the redhead almost jump in surprise. "I mean... there are limits. Certain rules in society you gotta follow, ya know - like you can't make out in front of Grandma, right? Or, a nun for instance. Nuns are... religious. So, you don't make out in front of them. And if we're talkin' categories - I'm her ex-boyfriend, for God's sake! There must exist some law... I've got some civil rights, don't I? Could you check for me? Yeah, like in those books?"  
  
At Xander's expectant glance fell on her, Willow winced. "You're really suffering with all this, aren't you?" the redhead asked softly, and Xander opened his mouth to reply, but found himself unable to do so.  
  
"And I thought you guys were on good terms these days," the petite girl added sympathetically.  
  
"We were," her friend stated simply. "Until the chin with a prominent guy stuck on it came into the picture, I mean."  
  
"Did you talk to her at least?" Willow asked.  
  
"And say what?" Xander shrugged. "I left you at the altar, you became a demon but still, I'm dead jealous?"  
  
Willow sighed, as Xander took one more gulp of beer. "You're just making up excuses," she said pointedly.  
  
"Yep, I know that much," the dark-haired man admitted, looking blankly at a neutral spot on the floor and a beer on his hand.  
  
Willow smiled a little at her friend's uneasy behavior. "Xander... just go. I'll distract John. Talk to her."  
  
Xander looked dramatically exasperated. "Nuh-uh. I can't. Not now. She's been taken over by the clown menace."  
  
The redhead couldn't hold back a grin, punching her friend's shoulder lightly.  
  
"Hey, ouch! You bad, bad girl... that's it, no gifts from Santa for you this year!" the young man said jokingly.  
  
The girl with only half of her hair curly rolled her eyes. "I'm Jewish, big honkin' Menorah and all that remember? And besides, reindeer don't talk..."  
  
"Rudolph's magic," Xander rationalized it, and then sighed. "But not circumcised, huh..."  
  
"Xander, eww!" the young woman looked horrified.  
  
The dark-haired young man grinned but, as if Anya was personally arranging a way to keep him depressed, a particularly noisy kiss made Xander's face become gloomy again. Willow frowned at her helplessness in this, wishing she could help him like he'd helped her at that Satanic temple.  
  
"What are you supposed to be dressed up as, anyway?" Xander then asked, forcing himself to try and ignore his former fiancée's provocative acts.  
  
Willow's face broke in a sheepish grin, and she opened up her jacket.  
  
Not for long, but long enough to irritate Anya, Xander grinned wildly. Very much so.  
  
As written in yellow paint on a white background, the three words stood out on her nametag label.  
  
Yellow Crayon Girl.  
  
***  
  
Please you guys, just review... Flames (gulp) or not (yay) are welcome! 


	4. Something For The Pain

Title: Wheels Of Engagement  
  
Author: Jane McCartney  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!  
  
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.  
  
E-mail: janemccartney@bol.com.br  
  
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.  
  
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down. Multi-character fic. Friendship issues and a little bit of romance.  
  
***  
  
Buffy sat next to Xander, on the couch. The can of beer, still half-full, was staring at the young man encouragingly.  
  
"Do ya need some cheering up?" the blonde girl asked tentatively, noting the odd ritual.  
  
"Depends," Xander snorted, hints of sarcasm in his voice and his eyes fixed firmly on the dirty-minded can of liquor.  
  
It was like a summoning spell. You couldn't just blame chemistry - especially when your former fiancée's tongue was dancing dirtily inside Johnny the Rich Banker Prodigy's mouth.  
  
Xander continued, as his petite listener took a gulp of the wonderful alcohol herself, "Whaddaya think of getting yourself a nice comfortable cell in some penitentiary, with the government paying all your bills? And the only thing you'll have to do in exchange is pee in front of 50 other women, for like the rest of your life?"  
  
"Sounds appealing," Buffy replied with a frown. "I'd have to get somebody to take care of Dawn, though. And I don't think Social Services would be very amused..."  
  
Xander, in despite of himself, shot a sideways glance to the girl and chuckled.  
  
The Slayer, a sheepish smirk on her own lips too, asked him, "So, what do I gotta do for such a tempting proposition?"  
  
"Well, nothing too big actually," Xander said off-handedly. "You know - murder, maybe some torture, just the ordinary Hellmouth stuff."  
  
"Right," Buffy also nodded casually, playfully entering into his twisted universe of jealousy. "But I don't know if we'll get all those privileges by killin' a demon, Xand. Ya know, it's that damn discriminatory Hellmouth thing..."  
  
"I was talking about John."  
  
"I know. Me too."  
  
Xander shocked his head and grinned. "I'm really pathetic, aren't I?"  
  
"You're askin' this of Buffy Summers, oh glorious goddess of pathetic?" the blonde girl imitated a voice of the British royal family.  
  
Xander chuckled. "Believe me, you cannot win this contest against moi, Buffster. It's just pushing your luck too much..."  
  
Buffy let her body descend further onto the couch. "You serious? My ex- boyfriends, one's a cursed vampire. The other chose an icky jungle instead of me. The last... guy I was with," she added pensively for a second, "tried to impose Nazism all over the world. Plus, that moustache? Just tacky..."  
  
"And he has a soul nowadays," Xander added in a casual manner, but sounding strangely deep and meaningful about it. Buffy eyed him. He just shrugged innocently.  
  
The petite Slayer frowned friskily. "I didn't think - I mean, it was no big. Ya know, not worth mentioning again."  
  
"Huh, me neither. I mean, a vampire with a soul? Pfft," the dark-haired guy snorted, a mocking look on his face. "Been there, done that, bought the Soul Boy T-shirt - ya know?"  
  
Buffy smiled a little, finally lowering her defenses against the smooth and friendly bickering that had been their conversation for the last few minutes.  
  
The dirty-minded can of beer was definitely flirting with Buffy now. She couldn't be so rude with the poor creature and thus took a large, relieving gulp, trying not to think too much - or even at all.  
  
"Ah, and another lost soul gives in to the sweet oblivion of liquor and thus the upcoming hangover," Xander mused.  
  
"Amen to that," the blonde girl chimed in, briefly clinking her can against his.  
  
The two friends stayed in silence for a minute or two, staring blankly ahead, the drinks clasped still in their hands. A frustrated and furious Anya, noticing her tactics weren't working on Xander anymore, shoved John away without explanations and went into the kitchen.  
  
Another beer was about to fulfill its destiny, it was going to be picked up by the blonde demoness in unspoken distress.  
  
Four gone, eight more to go...  
  
***  
  
Dawn was playing absent-mindedly with some locks of her Grease-like ponytail. She was exasperated. Bored. Plus, frightened to death.  
  
Dan hadn't arrived yet for their date, and, in precisely five seconds, he'd be exactly two minutes late.  
  
And four... three... two... one. Oh my God. Two full minutes. That had to mean an official ditch.  
  
What if it was just a prank? Oh no, I'm a prank now? Everybody would laugh at her tomorrow in class. Oh my God, they might even bring a camera! She was dead meat.  
  
Dawn thought that maybe she shouldn't go to class tomorrow then. Maybe she should move to another country. Or make with the plastic surgery, and become a complete different person. Michael Jackson had done it - well, granted he was rich. Whatever.  
  
But she wouldn't be recognized anymore and, plus, she could make up a real cool story about it. Like saying she'd been captured by aliens. Or become a dancer in Madonna's newest video clip. Or, or a dangerous fugitive on the loose. She could be a myth...  
  
Dawn the Sunnydale Bitch. Sounds better than Buffy the vampire Slayer... Now if that didn't sound cool, nothing would. Maybe it was a little forward... OK, so maybe it wasn't that cool after all.  
  
And maybe, who knows, she should do both and move out too. Dawn had always wanted to visit Brazil, and fly on down to Rio. A tan definitely wouldn't do anything bad for her skin...  
  
Jesus Christ. Just three minutes late, and she was in Delirium Land already!  
  
Well, I do have a vengeance demon just across the room...   
  
***  
  
The familiar noise of the doorbell echoed, and Buffy got up with a grunt and reached for the door.  
  
Dawn, a little too jumpy, eyed her reflection in the mirror one last time and cleaned off a tiny amount of lipstick staining her teeth.  
  
As her older sister, grumpy at the teen's urgings, opened the door, Dawn's wild grin faltered when Spike's familiar figure came in.  
  
The brunette teenager grunted loudly, and started banging her head lightly against the wall, repeatedly and in defeat.  
  
Spike just shrugged, as a pang of worry and hurt passed through his blue eyes. "Me effect on chits used to be an awful lot more pleasant, in the ol' days..."  
  
***  
  
Willow had just come back; more lit candles had been arranged in the living room to attend the nightfall's darkness. The redhead had a small smile of triumph on her face, as her fingers cautiously lit up the very last candle with a match.  
  
"And, fiat lux," the petite girl cheered as the flame brightened one more spot of the hall.  
  
Feeling, above all, surprised at how this exhaustive work hadn't put her mind onto a sulky desire for using, or rather craving, magic.  
  
And then, at the very next second, all the lights of the Summers' house suddenly came on - and several cheers were heard from everybody.  
  
Spike walked in with an odd and proud smirk. Willow just groaned loudly in frustration.  
  
The blonde vampire, a look of hurt present on his pallid features, just whined in a strong British accent, "What's the bloody matter with all the bints tonight, then?"  
  
***  
  
Please, review! I wanna know what you think... 


	5. That Crazy 60's

Title: Wheels Of Engagement  
  
Author: Jane McCartney  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!  
  
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.  
  
E-mail: janemccartney@bol.com.br  
  
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.  
  
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down. Friendship issues, some humor, a little bit of romance and Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer.  
  
***  
  
The doorbell sang out its siren song once more, causing everyone some genuine fleeting startlement with its clattery noise.  
  
Dawn, the true epitome of defeat, sat gloomily on the couch; head on her lap, and arms spread loosely. A tiny tilt of the head was the only hopeless reaction showed by the teen girl.  
  
Then a lanky medium-sized teenager came in, with a bouquet of pink roses in his trembling hands when Buffy answered the call. And the brunette girl's heart might as well have skipped a beat.  
  
"Hey Dawn," Dan greeted her nervously, with a small grin on his lips.  
  
He glanced quickly at the collection of costumed people in the living room, and waved uncertainly. One foot behind the other, in a very insecure teenage way.  
  
"Dan!" the teenage brunette replied a little too forwardly, and immediately cursed herself mentally for it.  
  
"Sorry for bein' late," he apologized.  
  
"Oh, come on, don't worry about that! Pfft," Dawn snorted, trying to sound as cool as possible. "I wouldn't even have noticed, if you hadn't mentioned it."  
  
Xander, coming back from his search in the kitchen for the second innocent can of beer, spotted the newly-arrived teenager.  
  
"So, Dan right?" the young man said casually, with a sympathetic smile. "Glad ya made it, man; one more minute, and Dawn would have had no more fingernails to chew..."  
  
Willow quickly elbowed her friend. And Dawn's wide-eyed gaze nearly fried Xander on the spot.  
  
"If someone wants to murder me, I'll be in living room," was the guy's next guilty remark, followed by an awkward and brief chuckle meaningfully directed at the Dawnster.  
  
Willow rolled her eyes and Buffy tried to hide her grin, with both women almost laughing in amusement.  
  
Entertainment, on the other hand, didn't fit on Dawn's expression; the teen's one was definitely more like panic or embarrassment.  
  
With feigned exasperation, Dawn said apologetically, "Sorry... you see, Xander hasn't been the same ever since he hit his head last year..."  
  
***  
  
Dan, a small grin on his face, looked at the reindeer-costumed guy exiting stage left and then at Dawn.  
  
Heart beating fast, legs shaky enough to make the word 'stumble' an almost certainty in the near future ahead, and blue eyes that just couldn't move away from the brunette girl in front of him.  
  
This realization made his heart beat a thousand times faster, his legs practically collapse on him and a goosey, gauche smile of nervousness appear.  
  
"Ah, Dan?" a worried voice called out his name, and the boy snapped out of his thoughts to find a wide-eyed 'Sandy'-costumed teenager staring intently at him.  
  
"You were like totally out of it for ten seconds," Dawn explained apprehensively, being somewhat anxiety-ridden. "I was starting to get really freaked out here..."  
  
A little jumpy yet, the 16-year-old boy showed a slight bit of confusion, "Was I?"  
  
"I was," Dan then simply repeated dumbly, this time in acknowledgment - as the awareness of said fact lent him a fretful look of mortification.  
  
"And you freaked out for me?" the boy kept on babbling, with a boyish grin this time.  
  
Dawn bit her lower lip nervously, eyeing expectantly the flowers in Dan's hands.  
  
The boy noticed and, feeling more than a little stupid, handed the flowers to his gorgeous date. "Here, these are for you. Thought you might like them..."  
  
The brunette boy then jabbered on with the typical unease in every American teenager, "But if, you know, ya don't - it'll be OK. Really. I mean, I'll only have to start goin' on the psychotherapy thing again, but I'll pull through. I, uh, hope..."  
  
"They're beautiful," Dawn replied sheepishly.  
  
"And anyway, who isn't a little cuckoo nowadays? I... wait, really? Ya like them?" Dan let out a much-needed gasp for air, finally feeling more relaxed. And plus, there was this stupidly wild grin plastered onto his face, which he just couldn't avoid having.  
  
Dawn sniffed the rosy petals meekly, and smiled. "I love pink roses."  
  
"I know," Dan admitted. "But not in a stalker-y kind of way," he frowned defensively.  
  
Buffy, Willow and Anya, in unison, uttered an 'awww'. The two youths noticed their presence, and eyed them sideways in a strange fashion.  
  
But all three females, human or demon, kept staring immovably at Dan and Dawn - with those extended lame grins.  
  
Anya even gave the former Key a quick thumbs-up, mouthing 'cute' with regard to her date. And unluckily for Dawn, blindness wasn't one of the boy's current qualities.  
  
Buffy, only very slightly more discreet then the demoness, pointed meaningfully and a little too briskly towards the mirror, indicating that Dan actually had a reflection.  
  
Dawn, recoiling into the corner, simply tried to hide her face behind her hands - in the face of this first date from Hell.  
  
And when Dan, the sophomore brunette class-sharer, looked at Dawn... the girl just smiled awkwardly, wondering what to do next.  
  
Dan just grinned. She is just so beautiful when she's panicking...   
  
***  
  
Willow glanced at her blonde friend, smiling pensively as she and the Slayer stared to move away towards the interior of the house. "Remember when we were like that?" she whispered.  
  
"Not really. I haven't had that much beer yet, to go there right now," Buffy replied pointedly, mocking exasperation.  
  
The two girls exchanged a look, and started giggling.  
  
***  
  
A bit later, Willow was stagnating in the kitchen; sea-green eyes glued to the flirtatious can of beer, standing on the top of the sideboard.  
  
Anya came in and stood next to her, eyeing the redhead oddly.  
  
"What?" the former witch frowned inquisitively, noticing the hazel-eyed glance upon her.  
  
"Well... during the 60's, when I exacted vengeance for this girl whose boyfriend had smoked too much pot and cheated on her with some lame hippie chick? Half of your hair's exactly like that girl's, and the other half's curled up just like the hippie's. It's fascinating," Anya explained illustratively.  
  
"Buffy!" Willow shouted with a whiny and prolonged wail, leaving to find her blonde friend.  
  
Anya, left alone in the kitchen, frowned to herself. "What? Did I say something wrong?"  
  
***  
  
Willow scowled, already outside the kitchen. Her blonde friend hadn't been found yet and so, a possible murder had been put on hold.  
  
Her reflection in the mirror caught the redhead's attention.  
  
"And a big yay to the old self-esteem 'cause of my hair," she whispered, half-crabby and half-gloomy. Willow delicately pushed up some festive locks of both curly and straight hair, but quickly gave up on that approach.  
  
Without the hairdryer's help when the power had run out, that part of the redhead's hair had developed into a real fuzzy combination of both curly and straight locks, completely mixed up with each other. And now that her hair had completely dried out, there was nothing she could do to change it.  
  
Eyeing the red strands all standing up and trapped loosely between her fingers, the former hacker winced at her disastrous appearance. So Willow did the only thing she could; she shrugged, and took one more gulp of the liquor on the wooden table beside her.  
  
***  
  
Hey guys... OK, it was a weak chapter, I know - but I'll try and make better, at least something decent... So, please review me! 


	6. Psycho Days

Title: Wheels Of Engagement  
  
Author: Jane McCartney  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!  
  
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.  
  
E-mail: janemccartney@bol.com.br  
  
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.  
  
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down. Friendship issues, some angst, a little bit of romance and Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer. B/S, X/A, D/Other.  
  
***  
  
Buffy, Xander, Dawn, John, Dan and Anya were distributed throughout the living room, everyone but the two minors with a drink on hand. In John's case, a well-behaved orange juice; in the other's, the blessed martyr of the night - a can of beer.  
  
"I wonder how we got the power on again," Buffy said off-handedly with her head tilted up, looking fixedly at the living room's lamp.  
  
"I mean," the Slayer added, as the other people in the room eyed her and the whole staring thing oddly. "I know the bills didn't just get paid off by themselves, all of a sudden."  
  
"'Specially in a Saturday night," Xander pondered. "It's their night off," the guy explained with a shrug.  
  
Anya enthusiastically popped her right hand up. "Maybe the electric company wanted to do something nice, y'know, a good deed to get into the spirit of this day," she risked guessing.  
  
"That's not for Halloween, Anya," Xander pointed out, a little annoyed.  
  
"Damn," the demoness crossed her arms and retrieved her body on the couch, looking upset. "I'm always getting these inane traditional human holidays mixed up!"  
  
"Candy, turkey, Santa?" her former fiancé elucidated helpfully.  
  
The demoness nodded with a wild grin at the epiphany. "Right, stomach ache, double stomach ache and expensive gifts! Well, of course, that's if you're not cheap like Buffy..."  
  
"I *am* standing right here, ya know," Buffy said, as the temperature dropped noticeably.  
  
Anya smiled forcefully, remembering the last Christmas gift given to her by the Slayer. "Buffy, come on, boxes aren't gifts! Boxes are things you use to put in the real gifts. Boxes are gifts only in the world of cheap people."  
  
"They were decorative boxes," the petite blonde defended herself, seeming either annoyed or hurt. Maybe both. "And I thought they'd be useful, it'd be a practical gift and, oh, the design with those cute little rainbows?.."  
  
"Cheap," Anya the capitalist covered the word under a toss of alcohol, but still it hinted clearly.  
  
The Slayer stayed in defense mode. "Xander had told me you guys didn't have any place to put his old comic books, and that you constantly kept ragging on him 'cause of that. Sayin' you would get rid of it all, if he didn't find a place other than the closet to keep 'em after the wedding. And I-" Buffy cut herself off, realizing what she had said.  
  
The room went silent for an instant, and Xander subtly turned his face away from any place where his glance could meet Anya's. But, to the former couple's misfortune, the demoness seemed to have exact similar thoughts.  
  
That resulted in two pairs of hazel and brown eyes unfortunately meeting each other, as the outcome of their avoidance games.  
  
It would have been cute, if it wasn't so absolutely tragic.  
  
Dawn gulped. Dan, feeling the odd vibes, looked lost and expertly chose to stay in silence. Chances were, probably safe then. Willow's head kept snapping alternately to Xander and Anya, in expectance of disaster.  
  
Buffy's look was a guilty one, but nothing that a gulp of beer wouldn't erase in this sea of disasters that the Scoobies had lived through for the last 18 months. Or maybe a whole new can would be a damn good idea.  
  
John, this big, stupid grin of expectation on his face, questioned Buffy's last line, obviously oblivious to the whole odd situation.  
  
Oblivious too to Xander and Anya staring firmly at each other, either seeming to hate each other with all their hearts... or else wanting to make with the mind-blowing sex right there, right then.  
  
"You..."  
  
***  
  
A little later Willow entered the bathroom, a fluffy pink cotton towel in one hand, a can of beer in the other.  
  
"You, my friend, are a very nice confidant," the redhead grunted, a grouchy look dawning on her features. She took a look at the mirror, and felt like crying.  
  
"Let's get you fixed up now, Willow," the petite girl said to herself, eyeing her reflection with a sigh.  
  
The former witch stepped into the shower - Willow knew she'd have to wash her hair all over again, in order to turn it back into its regular self.  
  
After all, going out with wet hair would be a lot better than going out looking like some sort of alien. Or like some Cher-hairstyle wannabe. Just creepy.  
  
Willow turned the metallic faucet, unconsciously preparing her body for the expected contact of the tepid water.  
  
She felt nothing. Not a drop. Not even a much-needed hair-tranquilizer.  
  
After sending a dumb glance around the bathtub, there was one moment of sheer panic.  
  
And then, realization and anger flashed through her mind... at what else the Slayer had forgotten to do. She felt like ripping a certain Slayer's heart right then, and triturating it in millions of little pieces and feed the cute little blue birds that'd appear in her window by the dawn.  
  
"Buffy...!"  
  
***  
  
TBC - should I keep writing? Should I stop and just cut my hand off and give every reader eternal relief? Or perhaps scratch out the last line to stop looking like a sick psycho or something? Drop me a review and lemme know! 


	7. The Art Of Being Cruel

Title: Wheels Of Engagement  
  
Author: Jane McCartney  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!  
  
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.  
  
E-mail: janemccartney@bol.com.br  
  
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.  
  
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down. Friendship issues, some angst, a little bit of romance and Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer. B/S, X/A, W/?, D/Other.  
  
***  
  
Anya was sitting languidly on one side of the couch; Spike, at the opposite end.  
  
The two of them had their chins supported by their hands, which in turn were supported by the arms of the couch. Crestfallen expressions were glued to their faces, making them look like brooding drunks to a casual observer.  
  
The night's guest of honor, the previously acclaimed booze, was between both their hands in the tempting form of a can. Once in a while, deeply seductive signals were sent to the twosome's brains, which led to the container's aperture being between two sets of bewitched lips; one vampiric cold, the other warmer, and covered with lipstick.  
  
"This is just so stupid," the clown-costumed demoness lamented, exhaling a drawn-out sigh.  
  
Spike eyed her briefly, sideways. Tiredly he said, "For the last time, I do not look like Hitler! Ya dumb bint..."  
  
"I wasn't talking about your Hitler-looking moustache, Spike," Anya replied, with more than a little grouchiness in her voice. "Even though that is also stupid," she added reflectively.  
  
Another sip of beer helped the platinum blond-haired undead to ignore the comment.  
  
Deciding he had nothing better to do, the recently ensouled vampire proceeded to say casually, "So, did ya figure out a plan to give Monkey Boy an incredible lot o' suffering yet? 'Cause I've got some really cute sketches I thought you might wanna 'ave a look at it, if you were still interested..."  
  
"I don't wanna hurt Xander," Anya retorted hurriedly. "I just want eternal acute pain to happen, in his sorry excuse for a life!" the blonde suddenly made a determined face.  
  
"Grr...argh!" the demoness finally gave up, taking a gulp of her booze. "Why can't I just sit here with a super popcorn pack, and enjoy the hating part? It used to be so easy to do, and I was so damn good at it!"  
  
"Super popcorn pack, huh? Hmm, them post-bloodbath dietary habits you've got have always held more 'n bit of curiosity for me, luv," Spike mused out loud.  
  
"Sometimes I'd also go for chicken wings," the demoness hinted to the British undead, not-too-subtly.  
  
"Yeah, well, I always had a thing for them too. 'Course, ever since I got this bloody soul, vanilla ice cream has been the thing for me," the chipped vampire remarked, a certain nostalgia in his tone.  
  
Despite herself, Anya frowned, a small grin playing on her booze-stained lips. "Really? Vanilla ice cream, you? I've always found that so... vanilla. Ya know, nobody wants to be vanilla. It's just too... vanilla."  
  
A raised eyebrow later, "I really got the point, luv," Spike shrugged in response. "Tastes good with blood though, in my opinion. Gives it a bit o' kick in flavor."  
  
"Oh," was Anyanka's blunt reply. "Icky."  
  
"Well, yeah," Spike agreed half-disinterestedly.  
  
A minute of silence. The only sound echoing between the couple of brooding comrades was the one of hard liquor, finding its way down their thirsty throats.  
  
"Hating Olaf was a lot easier, you know," Anyanka added morosely, out of the blue.  
  
"The blissful nuance of sweet ol' love," Charles Chaplin's vampiric counterpart pondered with a bitter smirk. "First, they see you only as a pathetic demon..."  
  
"Yeah," Anya agreed contemplatively, wrapping her fingers around the can's orifice absent-mindedly, eyes lost into the void.  
  
"Then they stick with ya, just for the good soddin' shag..."  
  
A keen snort and a nod from the demoness, as a way to agree completely.  
  
Blue eyes blazing with excited exaltation, Spike laid out his thesis: "Then, before ya know it, you're bloody well beneath them, and they won't see all the bleedin' changes you've gone through for 'em. And since you're not some great bloody poof with nancy-boy hair gel, havin' a soul don't seem to mean anything and..."  
  
Spike stopped, as soon as he noticed Anya's awkward look directed to him. "This is just a, uh, a hypothetical situation," the vampire finished lamely.  
  
"Of course, definitely hypothetical," the demoness assented in an odd voice, nodding exaggeratedly.  
  
***  
  
"I'm kinda glad we're having this moment," John stated, looking a little too eager, with the same idiotic 360-degree smile that just never seemed to leave his face.  
  
"Ah, what?" Xander replied after some time, obviously disinterested and bored; just barely acknowledging at all, the words coming from the other young man's mouth. "Oh, yeah, right, of course. Me, glad too. Super glad."  
  
Anya's lame boyfriend continued, the poor guy being ecstatically foolish, "I think it's important, you know, the whole male bonding thing? Anya's one special gal, I don't need to tell you that, and I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable with me dating her and all. I mean, I don't wanna intimidate you or anything..."  
  
Xander looked at him dumbly, for a second. And then, he chuckled loudly.  
  
Poor old John looked around, trying to see what was so funny that Xander was laughing at. "What, what's it?" Anya's boyfriend asked curiously, still lost in his meaningless search.  
  
That is, if he didn't happen to look into a mirror at that moment.  
  
***  
  
Thanks for all the kind reviews, love ya guys! And don't worry, I'll include some good ol' Spikey-presence that gits are so crazy about :) Review! 


	8. Brood Boy Jr

Title: Wheels Of Engagement  
  
Author: Jane McCartney  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!  
  
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.  
  
E-mail: janemccartney@bol.com.br  
  
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.  
  
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down. Friendship issues, some angst, a little bit of romance and Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer. B/S, X/A, D/Other.  
  
***  
  
Anya was eyeing Xander strangely. The reindeer-costumed guy noticed, and tried to just shrug it off.  
  
However, Xander Harris and patience hadn't been on good terms for a very long time, if ever. "What?" he eventually inquired.  
  
"Nothing," the demoness replied lamely, starting to play with a lock of blonde hair.  
  
The staring didn't stop, through.  
  
Irritably Xander demanded, "OK, just knock it off, all right? Having a red nose's more than embarrassment enough, I don't need the whole freaky 'gazing at it' thing to make it even worse!"  
  
"So this is causing you discomfort and annoyance? Tell me again why I should stop it," the blonde demoness scoffed, offering him a mean look, its sinister potential maximized by her clown-y makeup - in Xander's universe, anyway.  
  
Xander's patience had disappeared completely by now. Anya had been acting particularly mean on the whole spooky vengeance topic, the entire night.  
  
Which was odd as in the past couple of months, the former couple's relationship had improved considerably; due to the fact that they could now have a civil conversation without threatening to hack each other's limbs off, Anya in particular.  
  
So the construction worker asked, "Seriously - what's going on here, Anya?"  
  
"Xander Harris is being serious and not hiding behind any stupid attempt of making jokes? Now that's damn strong booze," the demoness snorted headstrongly.  
  
Xander scowled. "I'll just glare from now on then, ma'am," he mumbled crustily, taking an indeed very relieving gulp of that damn strong booze.  
  
Anya snorted belligerently one more time before giving up, "You knew," she said in the smallest voice Xander had ever heard coming from her.  
  
"I knew what?" the carpenter asked with some annoyance.  
  
The blonde woman snorted once more, with a roll of her eyes. "You so know what I'm talking about! You know what you knew, and you know that I know that you know you knew," she insisted.  
  
A confused Xander just looked blankly at Anya.  
  
"Rudolph!" she suddenly cried out loud, impatiently raising her hand only to let it drop and cut through the air a second later. "I don't know how you found out because I didn't tell you, but you knew!"  
  
"What exactly did I know, Anya?" the dark-haired guy gave up trying to understand, with a tired sigh.  
  
Anya sighed too, and diverted her eyes. "You knew Rudolph scares me. You found out about the clown thing somehow, and you planned a vengeance gig. And FYI, that's not only against union rules, but it was also a really low thing to do!"  
  
"Oh my God, how will I ever live with my conscience now? A vengeance demon who has caused havoc across the world's accusing me of being low, for having a red nose," Xander mocked sarcastically, simulating a pained voice.  
  
"Ha!" the demoness exclaimed in triumph. "Then you admit you're guilty!"  
  
"Actually, I didn't say anything of the sort," he snarled back at her.  
  
"Guilty, guilty, guilty," Anya just said in a sing-song voice, as Xander finished his half-full can of beer in a single shot and thought about starting to subscribe to the magazine called 'Guns and Ammo'.  
  
***  
  
"Spike, I... hey, Soul Boy, how you been lately? Can I get you a drink?" the Zeppo started to say, then cut himself off.  
  
"Nah, that'll never work. And ix-nay the Soul Boy crap - that'll just remind him of Dead Boy," Xander mumbled smartly to himself, and turned back to stare at himself in the mirror with a feigned wide grin.  
  
"Spike, buddy! Uh, nice duds, that a new leather duster?"  
  
Spike, recently arrived in the room, just raised an eyebrow. "Already tanked on the booze, Reindeer Boy? Or are ya losin' touch with reality 'cause Anya's here, Harris?"  
  
Xander snorted loudly. "Sod off, Bleach Boy," he said in a lousy Cockney accent.  
  
"Gladly," the vampire retorted simply, turning his back to the dark-haired guy, ready to leave.  
  
"No!" the carpenter hurriedly exclaimed. Xander then said painfully, feeling his pride being twisted down into a pretzel, "I... oh, what the hell, screw it! I need a favor," he added humbly.  
  
Spike smirked, before spinning around to find himself staring back at the construction worker.  
  
"And I should 'elp you 'cause I 'appen to be such a benevolent ponce now?" the blonde vamp replied, dripping sarcasm.  
  
Xander sighed violently. "Never mind, it was a stupid idea in the first place. What the hell was I thinking, asking for help to Brood Boy jr. here!"  
  
"Hey, watch it Monkey Boy," Spike advanced threateningly, but stopped harshly all of a sudden.  
  
Xander chuckled. "Or what, Fangless? You'll call me mean British words?"  
  
"It's not the bloody chip," the vampire mumbled, his eyes downcast. Then Spike glared at Xander, fed up. "I could still harm ya if I wanted it. It'd be worth every minute of the headache, you can bloody well believe me!"  
  
The carpenter, more curious than arrogant now, teased him, "What is it, then? You've found God or something? Or you're just afraid of Buffy kickin' your pale ass? And here I thought you liked that," Xander scoffed somehow, the tension of his anger over past issues clearly never totally forgotten.  
  
"It's not that," Spike retorted in annoyance. "Anyway, you wouldn't understand, you major arsewipe..."  
  
"Right," Xander sneered, but his acrid tone was absent-mindedly dissolving into a curious and even self-effacing one. "Then what is it, really?"  
  
"I'vegotabloodysoul," the vampire said hurriedly and in a low voice, his eyes travelling along the floor.  
  
"What?" Xander asked loudly, making Spike roll his blue eyes.  
  
"I've got a bloody soul already, you little wanker! I can't call you any mean British names, and I also can't kill time thinkin' o' painful ways to torture you no more - not without feeling major regret and sorrow, alright? Satisfied now?" the blond-haired undead snarled, lighting up a new cigarette.  
  
A little ashamed, Xander uttered sympathetically, "Soul and chip, huh? It must suck being you right now..."  
  
After receiving Spike's glare, the carpenter shrugged, encouraging the broody vampire, "Hey, don't be so down, Bleach Boy - hell, look on the bright side: at least you're not half as boring as Dead Boy was!"  
  
Spike's lips showed a thin grin. "Peaches is really a wanker, isn't him?"  
  
"What's the grand favor anyway?" he asked, changing the subject.  
  
"You mean you'll help me?" Xander replied quickly, a little too ecstatic.  
  
"Eh, why not? Been a boring night anyway, whelp," the vampire said.  
  
"Don't you feel regret by calling me whelp?" the dark-haired guy inquired suspiciously.  
  
Spike just shrugged. "Nope, 'cause it's damn well worth it."  
  
***  
  
Review, please! And hey, if you want, you could take a look at my new fics too, "The Observer" and "And It Feels Like Nothing"... Yep, this is in fact another case of a desesperate author looking for reviews... Can't help it ;) 


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